


Snippets

by yalublyutebya



Series: Past, Present and Future Universe [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:03:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yalublyutebya/pseuds/yalublyutebya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place to store Tumblr fics relating to Past, Present & Future. Mostly backstory snippets from Marcus's POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the gorgeous 'visual aid' for this fic, see original Tumblr post: http://yalublyutebya.tumblr.com/post/41795055165/marcus-cant-remember-why-he-agreed-to-pose-for
> 
> If you have any visual aids/prompts/requests/questions, drop me a line.

Marcus can’t remember why he agreed to pose for the Met’s calendar. It seemed like a good idea at that time, and John might have said some very flattering things about certain parts of his body. Now, though, he feels like an arse. Standing here in his birthday suit and trying to not look like a prat is surprisingly difficult. It doesn’t help that Sally Donovan, who just so happens to be quite good at photography, is giving him exaggeratedly suggestive looks whilst taking pictures. When she’s finally done, he grabs his dressing gown and throws it on hastily, before rushing out of the room.

A month later, when the calendar comes out, the suggestive looks are no longer limited to Sally Donovan, and Marcus is distinctly uncomfortable for the whole day - until he comes home to find John admiring his very own copy. John drags him straight into the bedroom and, well, after that Marcus doesn’t mind so much after all.


	2. The Beginning

When Marcus sees the attractive stranger from the bar take on a group of five yobs, it’s lust at first sight.

That compact form flies at the ringleader, putting him down with a solid punch to the nose, and then moves onto the next bloke. Marcus is half-hard even as he steps in to break them up. It’s probably not normal to be so aroused by violence, but it’s not just about violence - it’s about power. The bloke at the bar had seemed quiet, unassuming - and then bam (quite literally).

The group of youths is easily corralled outside, and Marcus sends the stranger out a moment later. He follows, pausing at the door to subtly adjust himself in his trousers.

When Marcus joins the stranger at the kerbside, he’s all repressed anger and adrenaline and beneath that, something else. It’s a potent mix and Marcus has to work hard to be professional.

Marcus lets the stranger go with only a verbal warning, and tries to stop his eyes from straying down to a firm arse as he watches the stranger walk away. He knows already that he’s going to be picturing this random stranger in bed later tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade POV for a change :-)

"Hey, Lestrade, have you heard?"

Lestrade turns with his cheap coffee towards the group huddled at the other side of the kitchen. One of the constables on Dimmock’s team waves him over.

"Heard what?" he asks tiredly. He can’t wait for this shift to end. He's only just getting back into the flow of things after Sherlock’s suicide, and he seems to have lost the energy (and passion) he once had for his job.

"Marcus is shagging John."

It takes him a moment to remember who Marcus is, and then he asks: "John who?"

"The Freak’s sidekick, John Watson."

Lestrade pauses, his brow crumpling into a frown, and then gives the group a somewhat belated vicious glare. "Haven’t you lot got work to be getting on with?"

He leaves without watching to see if they disband, and heads back to his office, shutting the door behind him. He crosses the room and sinks exhaustedly into his chair. 

It’s not long before he’s thinking about what he’s just heard. Marcus and John? Aside from the fact he’s never suspected John of batting for both teams, he’s a little flabbergasted. He can’t even think when they might have met - John hasn’t been to Scotland Yard in months. Then he remembers that brief encounter at the bar about a month ago, when he’d had to go at Louise’s request (more like demand) and he’d left John with the new sergeant. He shakes his head in something like amazement.

Now Lestrade doesn’t think of himself as particularly nosey, and he’s fine if people keep their private lives private, but he’s curious in spite of himself, and when he invites John for a drink a few days later it’s not entirely unrelated to the gossip doing the rounds. He spends too long watching John, searching for clues, and in the end it’s John who brings it up. 

John looks so happy, content in a way Lestrade hasn’t seen for months, and suddenly it doesn’t matter who he’s shagging, if it makes him smile like that. Lestrade smiles back and then changes the subject, his curiosity sated. And if he catches John peeking at his phone a little while later with a huge grin on his face, he says nothing. His friend is happy and that is all he cares about.


	4. Knowing

I don’t know what it is that first tips me off. Sherlock is still something of a mystery to me - I’ve heard so much about him from John, from Lestrade, from the rest of the Yard. And yet the man himself is surprisingly inscrutable.

It’s not hard to see that he listens to John, though, in a way he doesn’t to anyone else. Oh, he’s got respect for a few other people - Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade. But there’s something about the way he pays attention to John.

I don’t suspect anything until John’s birthday, when Sherlock comes up with the most amazing present. John is absolutely thrilled, and Sherlock looks over the moon. There’s a softness in his expression as he smiles at John, and I wonder that I’ve never noticed it before.

Then, once I’ve noticed it, I can’t stop noticing it. I watch him watch John and I become more and more convinced. Sherlock is in love with John. In my doubting moments, I watch John closely as he interacts with Sherlock (because, no matter what he says, Sherlock _is_ an attractive man) but I find nothing there to get me worried. John cares about this man (I already knew this), but it’s a platonic affection and no more. I’m relieved, but at the same time I feel awful for Sherlock.

I can’t help remembering my own disastrous experience, ten years ago now, when I’d been hopelessly infatuated with my best friend and had to watch him go off with someone else. I was barely an adult back then, so I bounced back pretty quickly. Something tells me it won’t be as easy for Sherlock.

It takes several failed attempts before I finally get the courage to confront him. I want to be his friend, want to help him through this, but at the end of the day, I have what he wants. I won’t feel bad for that - I love John and we’re pretty damn great together, but I can acknowledge how he must feel like. I want to reassure him. 

I’m not sure I achieve any of that, but then with Sherlock it’s never easy to tell. He thanks me for the lift and gets out of the car, and once he’s gone I press my head to the steering wheel and wonder if I should have said nothing after all. Can’t turn back now though - what’s done is done, and now Sherlock knows that I know. It’s up to him now, to do with that what he will. Me, I’ll leave him to it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked for this a long time ago. I finally got inspired :-) Now excuse me while I go drown in Marcus feels.

They hit the mattress with a low thud, John crowding over him, arms bracketing Marcus shoulders. John grins down at him and Marcus laughs, hooking one leg over John's. It's an obvious tease, pressing hips and thighs - and cocks - together, but it prompts a satisfying flutter of John's eyelids. When those blue eyes open once more, they fix on Marcus with an intensity that makes his skin tingle with expectation.

John lowers his head and skims his lips over Marcus's mouth, a threat and a promise all in one. Marcus tilts his head, seeking more contact, but John pulls back and Marcus lets out a huff of disappointment. John's eyes flick to his once more, dark with desire as John very purposefully draws Marcus's arms up to the side of his head and pins them with a hand wrapped around each wrist. Marcus's cock gives a throb and his breath falters for a moment. John smiles warmly, and dips his head to nose at Marcus's throat.

"I couldn't stop watching you tonight," John murmurs. "I wanted to kiss you right there and show everyone."

Marcus wants to reply, but he is distracted by the warmth of John's breath on his neck. 

"And when that woman thought she'd have a go at chatting you up..."

He wouldn't have taken John for the possessive type, but the hint of a growl in his voice makes Marcus's hairs stand on end. It's one of the hottest things he's experienced in recent memory.

Marcus manages, somehow, to find his voice. "I'm not the one who's only dated women for the last ten years."

John pulls back just far enough to meet his eyes, something serious lurking there. He doesn't say anything, though, just captures Marcus's mouth once more. The kiss is somewhere between hungry and tender, and Marcus arches into it, rubbing himself shamelessly against John. John's grip on his wrists tightens, coercing him back down even as John deepens their kiss, tongue skittering over Marcus's.

Marcus lets out a helpless moan and succumbs, sinking into the mattress as John plunders his mouth. John shifts against him, his erection pressing against Marcus's and Marcus's breath hitches. His body screams for more, but the pressure on his wrists keeps him still. 

He's not used to being overpowered like this. In all his previous relationships he'd been the one playing at commander, using all his police training to maximum effect and taking his partner to pieces, but everything is so different with John. He likes it more than he can say, and he thinks he's been lost since he first saw John throw a punch. God, he'd come so hard to the memory of that compact, powerful form before he'd even known his name. 

John's voice draws him back to the present. "Sorry, am I distracting you from something?"

Marcus blinks away his daze and his senses swarm with the feeling of John surrounding him. He raises his eyes to John with deliberate coyness.

"You're always distracting."

John's mouth curves into a smile. "Coming from you. I know you wore the extra-tight jeans on purpose tonight."

It is Marcus's time to smile, filthy and seductive. "What are you going to do about it?"

John's nostrils flare and his eyelids flicker just for a moment, before he calms himself and stares down at Marcus. Very slowly, he sits back on his heels, freeing Marcus's hands. "Strip."

Marcus pauses, just for a second, then his eagerness betrays him as he rushes to rid himself of his clothes. John watches on with a warmth that makes it even more difficult to keep himself from fumbling. When he's naked, he sprawls on the bed, legs deliberately spread either side of John's knees, hands just resting on his belly. 

John makes him wait for thirty seconds that feels like a lifetime, then tugs his own top over his head and throws it to the floor. He wriggles out of his jeans and boxers while Marcus watches him with barely-controlled impatience. 

When John finally settles in the cradle of Marcus's hips, cocks sliding against each other, they both let out a hiss of breath, and then exchange a smile. John traces his fingers up Marcus's arms and laces them through Marcus's fingers, drawing his hands up to head-level once more. John kisses him then, mouth deceptively soft as he thrusts against Marcus. 

Marcus hitches his legs around John's waist, pinning them together. He can't help picturing John inside him, stretching him open, and his breath catches at the mental image. He has to force it away to keep himself from getting too worked up. It's not something they've discussed, not yet, but he'll be sure to bring it up soon. 

John breaks their kiss with a gasp of breath, pressing his mouth to Marcus's jaw. His grip on Marcus's hands has loosened and Marcus takes the opportunity to wriggle one hand free to cup the back of John's neck and pull him into another breathless kiss, open mouths pressed together. 

John's hands trail over him almost helplessly, one ending up pressed to his neck as the other grips his thigh, forcing them together. 

"Yes," Marcus gasps as everything goes white-hot and perfect. "Fuck. Yes."

John smears his mouth over Marcus's collarbone, a desperate press of lips even as his movements degenerate into mindless rutting. Marcus is too far gone to complain and he throws his head back, letting the sensation sweep over him.

The crest looms and with one last thrust, Marcus lets out a choked cry, stars exploding behind his eyes as his body jerks against John's. John follows him only moments later with a bitten-off curse, before collapsing against Marcus.

They lay there for some time, slick with sweat and come, breathing heavily. John's head is tucked against Marcus's chest, and Marcus finds himself compulsively stroking John's hair at his nape. He's glad John isn't looking at him, because that piercing gaze right now would have him saying things he isn't sure John is ready to hear just yet. His heart is singing it with every pulse, though, and his ears ring with it. He's falling in love with this man - maybe he's already there even - and it's intoxicating and exciting and a little bit daunting. 

John finally pushes himself to his elbows, raising his head to give Marcus a smile that makes him look almost boyish, with his mussed hair and his bright eyes and reddened lips. He looks like he's been in the best fight of his life and come out victorious. He looks glorious. 

Marcus smiles back. "I'll remember to keep those jeans for special occasions."

"You do that," John says solemnly, lifting up and bending to press a kiss to Marcus's mouth before he climbs off and collapses on the bed next to him. 

Marcus is too content to move and clean himself up, so instead he rolls onto his side, curling around John. John shifts his arm obligingly and smiles when Marcus settles against his shoulder. Marcus presses his mouth to John's skin, wishes he could send a message by osmosis as John lets out a happy sigh above him, hand curving over Marcus's shoulder. Marcus tugs the covers up over them and settles in, heart finally settling back into its normal rest state. John's mouth ghosts over his forehead, lingers there for a moment as if leaving an imprint on his skin, and then retreats. 

"Night," John mumbles, sleep filling his voice.

"Night."

Marcus falls asleep to the sound of John breathing and the scent of John hanging around him. He can't help picturing hundreds, thousands, millions of more nights like this.


End file.
